My Kind of Town
Totally stunned
>> 2002 Wilder"So how did an island boy avoid learning to swim?" Dr. Laurie Tang asked, bobbing up to her neck in the shallow end of the pool. "I mean, no surfing?"
Standing nervously in waist-deep water, HPD Detective Sherlock Gomes was loathe to admit his fear of the water. "The few times I tried, I sank."
She could see that he was solid, not much body fat. Muscle and bone tended to sink, fat floated. "Here," she said and held out both arms on the water's surface, palms up. "I just want you to feel how good the water feels."
Gomes lay face down across her arms, one supporting his chest, the other his thighs. He didn't know if it was the water that felt good, but something sure did.
>> Waikiki
Achmed al-Hazir, having been spotted by his recent employer, the widow Mrs. Rayna Chang, in the Marine Surf parking lot, had found his place of martyrdom in the middle of the intersection at Kuhio and Seaside. A trolley carrying people attending the big electronics convention, according to the banner draped across the side, was stopped for a red light at Kuhio, heading mauka. Behind it was a police car.
Achmed walked casually but purposefully, not wanting to attract attention, and couldn't help patting the bomb strapped around his waist. The other hand clutched a doggie bad of the best spaghetti he'd ever had. About to enter the crosswalk, he took an angle that would carry him between the trolley and the cop car. That's when the screaming started from behind him. He froze at the edge of the sidewalk.
"Terrorist!" a woman shrieked. "Stop him!"
Achmed spun around, it was Mrs. Chang, screaming and pointing at him!
His first impulse was to take her with him, and he made several steps toward her. But there was no glory in killing widows. Achmed spun on his heel and starting running toward the trolley and the cop.
"He's a terrorist! Stop him!"
Heads turned from all four corners of the busy intersection. The cop, officer Dale Kaneakua, was a rookie and always ready for action. Hearing the word "terrorist," seeing a Filipino man running toward him, Kaneakua was out of his patrol car in an instant, drawing his Glock 9mm.
"Stop, police!" he shouted.
But the one-man jihad kept running toward him and the trolley.
Kaneakua took aim. A woman on the trolley screamed. A man swore. As he ran the terrorist reached under his shirt.
From out of the shadows a heavyset haole leaped at the terrorist, tackled him from over the left shoulder, pressed a stun gun to his neck.
Don Chapman is editor of MidWeek.
His serialized novel runs daily in the Star-Bulletin
with weekly summaries on Sunday.
He can be emailed at dchapman@midweek.com